


We're Terrible At Timing, But Getting Better At Talking

by agentlemons



Series: We're Dorks (But We're Dorks For Each Other's Benefit) [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic!Fitzsimmons, F/M, Fluff, I just spoiled it all, I wrote most of this during the unusual business hours of 1 and 6am, I'm actually proud of the fluff I've created, Kissing, Someone's pregnant and it ain't Fitz, Someone's proposing and it ain't Jemma, That's it, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, You're Welcome, if you've read my first installment of this then you know what the surprises are, im not even sorry for the fluff fest youre about to read, maybe expect a third installment maybe, sooprise sooprise sooprise, that's the story, welp enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentlemons/pseuds/agentlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jemma is killing it at keeping things discreet, Fitz is terrible at improvising following huge confessions, and the famous sandwich makes a reappearance but is long forgotten on their coffee table.</p><p>(It'd probably make a bit more sense if you read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7860457">this</a> story first, just for a better grasp on this one) :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Terrible At Timing, But Getting Better At Talking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



> This one is for [AGL03](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/pseuds/AGL03) (who I still cannot believe read the first installment) who requested a sequel. Hope this puts a smile on your face as much as it did mine :)
> 
> Huge thanks to [theskyequakes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyequakes/pseuds/theskyequakes) for beta-ing this work :)
> 
> Also, thanks to AGL03 once again for...reasons (you'll see) --> credit for that placed at the end :)
> 
> Enjoy! As stated in my tags, I wrote a lot of this during the hours of 1 and 6am, when I couldn't sleep. :)

“Fitz, I swear to God if you don’t get off this plane,” Jemma mutters to herself as she stands firmly in the same position she’d been in a week prior. She feels a strange sense of déjà vu, but shakes it off as she sees the plane coming into view, slowly descending onto the floor of the hangar. She can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins from the waiting and the semi nauseous feeling ripping through her stomach from…other reasons.  
  
The plane touches down, and moments later, the back opens up revealing a whole crowd of agents who went on the mission. Bags of equipment hit the ground, agents move about the hangar in all different directions, but Jemma is all eyes for a scruffy faced engineer advancing toward her with a determined stare.

 

Before she can even do so much as say a word, he places both hands to her face and pulls her towards him, his lips falling onto hers so fiercely that the breath is knocked right out of her. A small noise of surprise escapes her lips and she kisses back with the same amount of force, and Fitz groans into her mouth, moving his hands to her lower back and she gravitates closer. Just before things can get out of hand, however, Jemma pulls back, her cheeks flushed, and grins up at Fitz.

 

“Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” she teases, breathless, as she notices his own shortness of breath.

 

Before he can respond with a comment of his own, the Director makes his rounds over to them and they pull away at the same time, blushes creeping up the back of their necks. “Hello sir,” Jemma greets with a strained smile, “how did the mission go?”

 

“Not according to plan,” he responds, and Jemma feels Fitz's hand slip into her own, giving it a squeeze. “Our target got away.”

 

“Sorry to hear that, sir,” she says, squeezing his hand back.

 

He nods. “Did your work week go well with the stand in Director, Miss Simmons?”

 

“Oh, actually sir, I didn't come in this week,” she blurts, unable to stop herself, “I had some sort of bug.”

 

She can feel Fitz's eyes on her, but she trains her own on her boss, who is sporting a  surprisingly apologetic face. “Sorry to hear that.” she thinks he's done and is finally going to leave but his face transforms and he speaks up again. “Why don't you two take the rest of the night off?”

 

“Are you sure?” Fitz says, trying to stop his voice from showing too much relief.

 

“Of course. You two will need to catch up with each other, anyway.” he flashes them a knowing look and walks off, leaving the two of them alone in the hangar.

 

“Home?” she asks, looking up at him innocently.

 

“Yes,” he breathes out, placing a kiss on her forehead and tugging her out the door.

 

***

 

The afternoon air chills around her, but it may just be the fact that she's naturally cold. She snuggles in closer to Fitz as they walk back to their place, his hand still entwined with hers and in the warmth of his pocket.

 

“So it seems the director is comfortable with the fact that we're together,” she says, breaking the silence. It was actually a subject that's been biting at her since he left, and the look he had given Fitz.

 

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head with his empty hand, “he may have figured out we had something going on. He mentioned that it was weird to see his assistant and the lab tech from downstairs snogging like two teenagers, but he was fine about it overall.”

 

A crimson color pushes its way onto her cheeks, and it isn't just from the cold. She kicks a rock on the sidewalk and shivers as the wind picks up and blows against her exposed skin. “But what's this I hear about you playing hooky all week?”

 

_Right. That._

 

“For your information, Fitz,” she says mockingly, placing her vacant hand on her chest in pretend hurt, “I was actually feeling quite nauseous all week. I was not playing ‘hooky.’” She even puts an air quote around the word to emphasize it.

 

“You're actually okay, though?” he asks, stopping in his tracks. “Nothing serious going on?”

 

She looks up at him. “Of course not, why?”

 

He shakes his head and makes a face. “No reason. It just sounds like you might be-”

 

“Might be what?” she asks when he doesn't answer his sentence.

 

“Nothing. Don't worry about it.”

 

A silence passes between them before Jemma speaks up again. “So what happened on the mission?”

 

They had just reached their apartment building, leading Fitz to casually respond “I'll tell you inside” and pulls her into the warmer atmosphere, the chill outside no match for the warmth.

 

It's a quiet and quick trip to their apartment, and when Fitz pulls the keys out to open it, Jemma suddenly panics.

 

“Fitz, I have something to tell you.”

 

His hand freezes midway into turning the lock, and his face contorts to one of concern. “What is it?”

 

“I uh,” she begins, and looks anywhere but him to think of a good excuse as to why she blurted that out.

 

“I'm making a special lunch for us,” she finally says, and nods more for her own benefit than for his. “Like a celebration.”

 

“Celebration? What for?” he furrows his eyebrows, and Jemma almost wants to roll her eyes at the clueless man.

 

“Well, making your way back from a mission in one piece is surely a celebration in itself, right?” she pushes the door open and bursts inside, ignoring his questioning gaze.

 

He nods as he makes his way forward their bedroom, and her throat suddenly dries. “Where are you going?” she asks, making sure her tone sounded under control.

 

“Uh to get changed…this outfit isn't the most comfortable thing, and I've spent the last two days wearing it.”

 

“Oh yes, of course! Wouldn't want you complaining about that all through lunch,” she says a bit too cheerily, cringing at her voice that jumped a few octaves with her words.

 

_You're killing it, Jemma._

 

A few moments later, he emerges from the room in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, an outfit that happens to look very fine on her boyfriend. “So, what did you make?”

 

“Well, it's not exactly a four course meal, but I thought it'd be special enough,” she says shyly, holding up a wrapped sandwich, “to bring up an old tradition.”

 

“Is that-?”

 

“Your favorite, yes.”

 

She hasn't picked up the ingredients for his favorite sandwich in a couple years. The last time she did, they were just emerging from the rut in their friendship. They're memories she doesn't like to think about, when they weren't talking. She remembers how unhappy she was that her best friend - and _more than that_ \- wanted nothing to do with her. She was to blame as well for her actions and decision, for leaving him and for hurting him.

 

It wasn't until they moved into their current home that she discovered he kept the little piece of cardboard she had written on during that time. _Be safe! Love, Jemma._ Her heart almost stopped when she saw it hiding in some of his belongings. He, of course, started to stutter like he does when he's caught off guard, and tried to cover up why he kept something so insignificant. She ended up getting it out of him, with a bit of persuasion.

 

She bites her lip to stop from smirking at the memory.

 

“Hey. Where'd you go?” he asks softly, the sandwich out of her grasp and in his possession, and his eyes gazing into hers.

 

“Nowhere,” she says, a smile tightly pulling at her lips, “just thinking of the last time I made you this.”

 

“Not the best memory, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” she breathes, “I mean, we were reaching a reconciliation, but -”

 

“-it's just the thought of it, I know.”

 

She smiles sadly and nods. She looks down at the counter to clean up the crumbs from the bread when his hand moves up to her face to cup it.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, and her eyes wander up to search his out. He leans over the counter to kiss her, his lips tenderly moving over hers. She moves her head to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away before she can make any further movement. He pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and tilts his head to the side, giving her the same look he had given her when they had gone undercover to search out Radcliffe. “Let's make a better memory, yeah?”

 

She's so intently drawn to him that she forgets what he's talking about, but then he's pulling away with a kiss to her forehead and traveling to their sofa with the sandwich. She watches him as he settles on the middle cushion, opening up the paper she delicately packaged the sandwich in, and he grins up at her when he takes in the sight. “C’mere.”

 

She hesitates for a moment, staring at him a little more...intimately than she should. It's not her fault that watching Fitz around food is an equally adorable and sexy sight. Actually, anything he does is sexy. She snaps herself out of those thoughts and moves around the entryway to follow him onto the couch. She rests her head on his shoulder and lifts her legs to rest over his own, nuzzling her nose into his neck. “So how was the mission?” she asks.

 

“Just like any other,” he sighs, “except that the target was our friend.”

 

Jemma nods. “Did you get to see her?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, “she looks different.”

 

“A lot of things are different now Fitz,” she whispers and, unbeknownst to her, he nods in agreement.

 

“I wish I could've done more on the mission, though. I was stuck with three other men who didn't know what the hell they were doing. They probably didn't even know what the mission was for.”

 

“I'm sorry. I know how frustrated you can get around clueless and useless people.”

 

“It's alright it's not your fault,” he says, and then with a lower voice, he mutters, “it didn't stop me from slipping some dendrotoxin into their drinks.”

“Fitz, you didn't!” Jemma gasps, rising up onto her knees beside his thigh.

 

“It wasn't strong, but it was just enough to knock them out for the amount of time I needed to help Daisy. Plus it's not like they would suspect anything from a normal engineer such as myself.” Fitz grins at her innocently, and Jemma in turns starts laughing.

 

“It went well, though? No one found out?” Fitz had no idea how much stress was going through Jemma's system while he was gone, worrying about him not coming home had done a number on her. But in the end, she had no doubt in her mind that he'd come back to her.

 

“No,” he says, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head, “but I'm back in one piece and the woman I love made me my favorite sandwich so I'm very glad I didn't get caught.”

 

Jemma giggles and Fitz holds half of his sandwich up to her.

 

“Here, you can have half if you want.” The sandwich is still by her nose, and she takes a deep whiff, suddenly feeling very hungry. But then that hungry feeling is replaced quickly by nausea.

 

“I'm alright. Would you excuse me for a moment?” She runs off the couch to the bathroom before she could hear his response and closes the door behind her just before emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

 

“Jemma? Are you okay in there?” Fitz asks from the other side of the door, sounding concerned.

 

Jemma stands up on shaky legs and flushes the toilet. “I'm fine Fitz,” she calls out, grabbing the toothbrush she's been using for the past week to rid her mouth of the taste. “I'll be out in a moment.”

 

After she finishes brushing for five minutes, she looks at herself in the mirror, splashes cold water on her pale face, and opens the door. Fitz is leaning up against the wall, but advances to her side once he sees her.

 

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks, his hand resting on her back and face.

 

“I'm fine. Great, actually. I just need to tell you something.” she winces when her stomach lurches again, but it quickly settles back down, and she sighs in relief. Fitz guides her back to the couch, the warmth of his hand radiating heat onto her back through her shirt.

 

Once she leans back into the cushions of the couch, Fitz’s hand coming to rest on her knee, she knows she can't turn back. Just the thought of what she wants to say makes her stutter.

 

“So I um…” she begins, her palms slightly sweaty, “there's a possibility, I mean, it's not a possibility it's actually one hundred percent accurate, because why would I be telling you something if it wasn't accurate I'm a scientist for God's sake and-”

 

“Jemma,” Fitz says, leaning towards her and sliding his hand up to squeeze her thigh. “Just tell me.”

 

She takes a deep breath. “We sort of...conceived a child the night before you left for your mission,” she blurts out, her words coming out like a blur. But by the look on his face, she knew that he understood what she meant.

 

His jaw goes slack, his eyes widen, and his hand on her thigh freezes in the middle of drawing circles to comfort her.

 

“Fitz?” she tries, moving forward to place her hand over his other one. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles and looks up into his wide eyes that are trained on hers. “Fitz? Please say something.”

 

His mouth moves but no words come out, and she starts to panic internally about the whole situation when his mouth turns upward into a smile. “Of all the ways you could've told me you were pregnant, you tell me in the most unromantic way possible.”

 

It takes her a moment to process what exactly he's saying, and an even shorter moment to respond. “Ugh, Fitz!” she rolls her eyes, hitting his arm with the one that was holding his hand just seconds ago. “There's even more unromantic ways to say that I have a child growing inside me, do you want to hear them?”

 

“Nope,” he says, placing his hands over his ears and making a noise so she can't penetrate through with her scientific explanations.

 

She pulls his hands back down and places them in his lap, holding them with her own and sliding towards him even more so their knees touch. “You didn't seem surprised. When you finally spoke, that is.”

 

He shrugs. “I figured something was different from the moment you mentioned something about being sick all week back on the base. And then you were acting odd when we talked about it on the way home. Oh, and you also threw up at the smell of my sandwich,” he gestures down at his sandwich, not a bite taken and long forgotten now.

 

She smiles up at him. She certainly is dating a smart man. She sets a mental note to never keep any surprises from him again, and then notices that the gleam in his eye fades a bit and a thoughtful gaze rests in his face. “What are you thinking?” she asks, watching the invisible gears turn behind his eyes with thought.

 

“I just,” he whispers, as if sharing a secret only the two of them will know, “I'm afraid I won't be good enough for them.” he smiles sadly.

 

Her heart breaks a little for him when he says it. She can hear the vulnerability and the residual hurt in his tone from his childhood. He’s told her the stories, about seeing your father walk out on your family at such a young age and how that can tear someone apart. Especially someone so emotionally inclined like her Fitz.  

 

“Oh Fitz,” she says back, dropping her voice lower, “you are going to be the best father that this child could ask for. Believe me.”

 

He offers back a more confident smile, and she resembles it with one of her own as she leans forward, placing her mouth on his delicately. When she pulls back a few seconds later, she notices that his hand has moved from resting in his own lap to laying on her flat stomach, his thumb moving back and forth along the texture of her shirt. “We're gonna have a baby, Jem.” his voice breaks when he says her name, and when she looks up, his eyes are beginning to water a little. Or maybe that's just the moisture forming in her own eyes.

 

“Yeah,” she replies, placing her hand over his own, “yeah we are.”

 

She looks down at their entwined hands, and she feels her heart swell twice the size for this man who, despite everything they've been through, still chose her over and over again. She's never been more fortunate.

 

“I actually had something I wanted to say as well, but it's nothing compared to this,” he says, his hand drawing her attention to her stomach but the uneasiness in his voice guiding her eyes back up to meet his.

 

“I know,” she says matter-of-factly.

 

“You do?” he says incredulously, his eyes beginning to widen again.

 

She leans forward, close enough so she can feel his hot breath fanning against her neck as she whispers in his ear, “I could feel the ring box in your trousers, Fitz.”

 

When she pulls away, shock and surprise finally fill his eyes, but for a different reason than before. He groans, “we are terrible at this, aren't we?”

 

She finally lets out a loud laugh, much to his dismay. “Horrible, really.”

 

He slides back a hair to reach into his pocket to retrieve the small black box. “I had this little speech put together. Nothing too extravagant because I knew that someone would get too impatient and say ‘yes’ before I even got the sentence out.” This earns him another light smack on the arm and a “how would you know I would say yes” look before he continues.

 

“But everything I was going to say left my brain the moment you told me you were pregnant. In the worst way, I may add.” She laughs instead of hitting him, letting it slide for the moment because goddammit he was proposing to her and God forbid she interrupt again.

 

“I've never been this happy in years. You make me happy. We have a symbol of our love growing inside of you as we speak, for God's sake,” he says, emitting a watery laugh, and she wipes the tears both from her eyes and from his, “and I kinda want to stick it to the cosmos that we're not going to be separated for the rest of our lives. So um-”

 

He opens up the box and pushes it toward her. But she's too lost in this amazing man in front of her to notice the ring at all. In fact, she's so close to him that if she moves another inch or two, the question he's about to ask her will fly out the window along with his prepared speech.

 

“Will-”

 

“Yes.” She places her hand on his upper arm and it slides up over his shoulder to his neck.

 

“You-”

 

“Mhmm,” she affirmatively hums, her fingers inching their way to his hair and her body moving even closer to his. She can feel his breath on her mouth.

 

“Marry me?”

 

She closes the distance between them again, climbing into his lap and pulling him closer as she kisses him languidly, letting the intensity of the moment take her breath away. He instantly kissed back, his lips falling over hers so delicately and firmly at the same time that that too is enough to steal the air from her lungs. Torn between wanting to breathe and deepening their kiss, she pulls away gasping for breath, and Fitz places a kiss to her temple before leaning back in.

 

“Aren't you going to look at the ring?” he asks slightly out of breath, his lips touching hers as he speaks. “It has a lot of sentimental value.”

 

She turns and grabs the box off the coffee table, not knowing how it got there in the process of things. Her breath catches once again when she looks at the ring in front of her.

 

It's a small ring, a thin band all the way around, no center diamond, but with small diamonds encrusted around the whole ring. Each of the diamonds is silver, each one polished as if done individually by hand. But the two diamonds in the front of the ring, or what Jemma assumes to be the front, are a different color. One of the diamonds is a hazel color, almost green, to match her eye color. And the other diamond is the exact color of Fitz’s eyes: a blue unlike any other, and the owner of the eyes that she gets to spend the rest of her life with. The ring in itself is ethereal, too perfect, and she chokes down a sob at the weight of this moment and the perfection of it all.

 

“It's handmade,” Fitz says, scratching the back of his head, “I've been working on it with Radcliffe whenever we had extra time to. I thought it'd be safer for you to have a ring that could pass as ordinary, being that we have a tendency to get into bad situations and -” he points to a small section on the inside of the ring, where there's a small L and J engraved, “that is where the tracker is. So that if anything happens to you, I'll always find you.”

 

Before she can say a word, he lifts up the mold holding her ring in place to grab another ring, fit for his finger, and holds it up. “And if it so happens I get myself into a situation as well,” he points to the same section on the inside of his ring, where they're initials are also placed, “then you can always find me too.”

 

It takes his hand to brush her tears away to know she is actually crying. She reaches over to the table again, cautious not to drop the ring or to fall off his lap while doing so, and grabs a tissue to clean up the mess she's made of her face quick before turning back to him.

 

Jemma places her forehead against his and looks at him through her eyelashes, his eyes closed to breath in. “What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

 

He opens his eyes, and they're so clear and blue like the ring she's holding that she sucks in an involuntary breath. “You're you.”

 

It's cheesy, but she'll take it because she loves him. He takes the ring out of the box and gently slides it on her finger, his hands slightly shaking. She does the honors in sliding his on his own finger and pulls him in for another kiss, short but sweet, and hugs him as tight as she can.

 

She pulls away when he hears him mumbling something against her neck. “What was that?”

 

“I was just wondering about how the director is going to react. I mean, he just found out we're together-”

 

“And now he's going to find out that we're engaged and expecting.” she laughs lightly. “He's probably going to compare us to rabbits, or something.”

 

“We've always been bad at timing, haven't we? Can't even wait until we're married to go at it,” he says, chuckling. Jemma buries her head in his neck she laughs, and Fitz decides it's his favorite new sound.

 

“Besides,” Jemma says, pulling back, “he has to deal with me on a good day. Imagine him dealing with a pregnant and hormonal Jemma Simmons.”

 

In Fitz's opinion, watching his pregnant fiancée give it back to her boss in the next couple months is a lot funnier to witness than it sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos goes to [AGL03](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/pseuds/AGL03) for the ring choice ;) Her and [agent85](http://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85) did a great job of coming up with possible [contenders](http://agl03.tumblr.com/post/149622307471/aos-advent-calendar-23-days-to-go) for rings that Fitz would give Jemma, and I thought this one was a perfect choice for the story.
> 
> Find me at [bioforensics](http://www.bioforensics.tumblr.com) on tumblr! Come say hi!


End file.
